Provenance
by Shivie
Summary: It has been two months since the battle, and some have recovered more than others. With the Alliance in shambles, many are fighting to fill the need for control. The leading group is Provenance, a team catalyzed by no other than Mal and Zoë. But how will Zoë keep up with the loss of Wash? Is a new romance in order?
1. The Dream

All you see is white. You feel nothing. You smell nothing. You hear no one. Your thoughts and questions run rapid in your head. You are alone, you are terrified and you have no idea where you are, and how you got here.

White light reaches and spreads to the end of your vision– it is omnipresent. But as time culminates and the nothingness stands still, you begin to question. You examine yourself. You wear your favorite leather vest and suede pants. However, you ensemble is not its famed "brown coat" color, but is now a whimpered gray. You are in a state of overcast. Confused and panicking, you look for someone, anyone to explain the logic in this place.

With little success your place quickly eclipses to a run. You search through the nothingness, your boots slipping on the frictionless smooth ground. You stare into the unqualified nothingness, contemplating how to awaken, but you find no imperfection, no end. You stop. Your thoughts mercilessly drown you. You crumble to the ground. You are alone, more so than you have ever been, and you have no idea how to get back to your reality. You slam your fists on the horizon, you feel no pain. The pounding of you fists and the screams of your tears echo through the White. You draw your gun, and shoot frantically into the White. The sharp echo burns your ears. You exasperate, curses of denial flood out your mouth.

"Mal! Jayne! ...Wash? Sweetheart, can you hear me? Listen to me. I need you."  
They don't hear you. How could they?  
"Wash? Where are you?"  
Your tears cloud your words making you sound small. You never were small.  
"I am lost, Wash. I need you to find me? Help me, dammit. Help me!"

Now you are genuinely determined. You refuse to let yourself drift into the nothingness. You want to live. You lay down on the smooth White your arms crossed behind your head. You close your eyes and you whisper, "I am going to find you Wash. I'll find you." And as the timeless, nothingness moves through your memories, you awake and you remember.

* * *

Zoë is back in her cabin. She is damp with sweat, but her breath even. She has grown accustom to her dreams. Every night its the same. The same nightmare of isolation, of searching for Wash. She shakes her head ridding the dream from her mind. She turns to strokes the firm white of her bed, the spot which once held a snoring Wash. Supporting her back she lifts up and walks over to the door. She opens the metal chute and looks out. Her shipmates bustle about, all eager and willing to start the next job. Zoë sighs and returns to her bed, wrapping her bed sheets snug around her. "I need you Wash," she cries hugging a wrinkled tropical shirt tight to her chest.


	2. The Truth

People deal with death in various ways. Some over-compensate saying outlandish statements of "I love you" s or "I need you" s. Some spend unnecessary time with their loved ones… in the fear of losing anyone else. Some find themselves rebellious, seeking personal victory and fulfilling individualized fantasies. Zoë, however, was one of the some who sought solation.

She fought, unenthusiastically.

She returned to her cabin, isolated

She went to bed, lonely.

Zoë used to be infectiously determined, warming others with her witty retorts and wide smiles. Now, Zoë merely mouths her salutations– out of obligation, not endearment. Zoë has become an average woman, a dull women, clouded by an overcast of sadness. Zoë is in need of a love one, a friend, a smile.

But people, her team, her friends, didn't and don't know what to say. How do you support a wounded hero?

Zoë strides through the halls of the cold shuttle. The villainous silence creeps into Zoë's memories, reminding her of the battle, the blood, of Wash. She shakes her head, ridding the painful images. Her gun sways accordingly with her determined walk. She is half way to her cabin, she is hopeful to sit, and to be secluded once again.

She reaches for the door handle as a flash of brown emerges at the end of her vision. A tall, warrior approaches her, his smile vivacious and inviting.

"Hello," He says as he continues past Zoë. Zoë mutters a response, more of a grunt really.

Mal freezes, and turns to face her. "Are you ok?"

His question, possibly an offhanded attempt at courteous, would have meant nothing to Zoë on any other day, but the intensity of his stare was both deliberate and inquisitive. The stare of her commander elicited a response. A truthful response.

Zoë looks up to meet his yes.

"What is it Zoë?"

She breathes, and for the first time in a long time she allows herself to feel, "I'm pregnant."


	3. The Lying

Mal, Inara and Zoë gather around the dining table to celebrate the news. They share wide smiles, and mouths full of chocolaty lard.

"This is great news Zoë. Just imagine it, a little Wash."  
Mal cleared his throat. Eyes warring of the solemn Zoë.  
"Ohh I didn't–"  
"Don't fret Inara. It's fine. He or she will be like their father in every way I imagine."  
Zoë gives a smile. Hoping everyone would relax and stop their apathetic glances.

After the meal Zoë departed to her cabin. She went to her console to make a call to a friend. Kailey, Simon and River had spent most of the summer on Station 7, a provincial slum of planet, but Kailey liked it, River was compliant, so that was that.

"Hey Kailey."  
"Is that you Zoë? It's so great to see your face. What's new on _Serenity_? How's my baby keeping up?"  
"Just fine." In all actually it was pristine, a living reminder of the memories of her past. "I take it you heard about, the um, my–"  
"Yes," she bobs up and down in the screen. Giddy from the secret she had been attempting to keep. "A baby! Ohh, Zoë. This is just wonderful. We've talked to Mal about meeting up with you at the end of next week. Simon can give you a check up, and we can have girl talk. I am too overwhelmed Zoë." She screams in delight. Zoë ducks away from the screen, haphazardly trying to avoid hearing loss.  
"Sounds…great Kailey. We'll see you then."  
"Ok. Simon and River give their love. Bye!"

Zoë reaches over and turns off the console. She deeply sighs, she is tired, forever tired. She realizes it will be harder to isolate now that they know about the baby. They will ask questions. Offer help. Give advice. Everything she was attempting to avoid. She is afraid to answer the questions. To realize that a piece of Wash is inside her, a constant reminder that he is not with her. A lump of anxiety claims her windpipe. Zoë reaches for her throat, as her other hand squeezes her chair frantically. She never used to have panic attacks. Even after the rebellion with Mal, she was fine. No nightmares. No pain. But the battle was different. It held a different pain on her heart. She felt small. She felt weak. She didn't have the control she once claimed she had. But Zoë didn't call for help; she knew how these episodes went. She would be done in a minute or so. A long minute or so.

"Zoë?"  
She opens her wet eyes, to a curious Inara. Zoë quickly swallows the gluttonous mass of anxiety down and rises to meet her.  
"Inara. Yes, what is it?" Her voice held a fake authority to it.  
"Just making she you were," She hesitated to say ok. Obviously she wasn't. "If you were–"  
"I'm fine Inara. Like I said this is a good thing, right?"  
Inara responds with a hesitant head nod. Zoë had no place lying to a liar.

* * *

The following week went without event.

With no new heist, job, or meeting scheduled, Zoë spent most of her time in her cabin. Mal and Inara soaking in their new romance seemed to accept Zoë's distance.

Mal brushes a wisp of hair behind Inara's ear. Inara grabs his wrist bringing him to her chest. He leans towards Inara lips taking a questionable breathe before bringing his lips to hers. But Inara doesn't return the kiss.

Mal leans back, "What is it Inara?"  
"I am worried about Zoë."  
"Inara, it's Zoë, she can take care of herself. She's strong." He leans forward, attempting a second landing on Inara's soft, inviting, wanting—  
"No, Mal. Seriously, she is not herself. It's been ten weeks since the battle, and she has made no attempts of recovery. She says she is fine, but no one should be fine. They should be sad, angry, upset. She needs to allow herself to feel it."

Mal lets go of Inara and steps a few paces back. "Its not that easy, Inara. A soldier is trained to _never_ open that door. You we're taught, I taught, leaving the battle behind you. A fighter can't have emotions cloud their judgment. Zoë ignores the memories of the battle, of feeling the battle, because she is afraid of the consequences. Hell, I am afraid. We're afraid that if we open that door a flood of memories of the fighting, the blood, the death with surge into us. We would be incapacitated. We would break from all of. It would ruin–" Mal stops. He is shaking.

"Ohh Mal," Inara sits down. Her back to the wall she brings Mal's head to rest against her lap. "I see Mal. It's ok." She strokes his hair, soothing her fallen warrior.


	4. Station 7

Station 7 is a low-class provincial, slum of a planet if you ever saw it; it's a big gas stop really. No place for a vacation. But it was a vacation for Kailey nevertheless. She loves its classic western appeal. She loves how the sand dunes meld within the horizon. She loves the shops she calls "quirky". She loves the planets safe façade.

The center of town was Heavens End. It was one of five bars on the planet but by far the most popular. Regulars fill the ripped red bar stools listening to the smoothest of jazz and drinking the hardest of liquor.

* * *

"Gosh D-" Mal shouts. He rests on a friendly boulder, lifting off his shoe and pouring out sand.  
"Where is Kailey? I don't understand. I put in the coordinates correctly."  
"If you put it in correctly we wouldn't be stranded in this pile of –" Mal mumbles underneath his curses.  
"Seriously? Mal, seriously. You can't honestly blame _me_!"

The perpetual bickering floats on the heat waves. Zoë strides ahead not bothering with the irritable couple. She looks across the sand dunes finding no imperfection to the tan glitter. A shudder slips down her vertebrae. Without a bickering couple to keep her mind occupied, she drifts into a self-destroying analysis. She can't help to think that if Wash were here they wouldn't be lost. Wash would have landed them directly on Kailey and Simon's doorstep; without a pebble disgruntled.

"What'cha smiling at Zoë?"  
Zoë hadn't realized she had been smile. She reaches up to touch her face, before realizing how absurd that would be.  
"Nothing. You gave up already?"  
"Why bother? _She _always wins anyhow," Inara looks back at the disgruntled Mal. He's kicking pebbles about, futilely looking through navigation equipment.  
"Mal has never been good at directions. Even from the war to our time on Serenity. This one time, he told Wash–"  
She stops herself. What was she doing bringing up Wash? She was being ridiculous.  
"What did he tell Wash?"  
"Oh, nothing. I forget. Anyhow, I think we should head towards the second moon. I remember Kailey telling me how River loves the view, and I doubt they would stay anywhere where the mountains would block them."  
"Sure. Makes sense. I'll tell Mal and we'll start up again."

Zoë curses under her breath. She hates the way Inara looks at her. A skepticism fueled by pity and doubt. She loathes Inara's apathy.

* * *

"Hey everybody! Thought you'd never make it." Kailey greets Inara and Mal with open arms and her signature smile.

"Not much, huh?" Zoë turns, recognizing the voice. A smiling Simon stands a few paces back. She still wasn't used to him without his fancy clothes. "It's Kailey's grandfathers. But the house isn't as bad as you think, despite forcing me to put up shingles she has done lovely." Simon boasts proudly.

Zoë glances over the house. It seems to be made of clay, the cobblestone path leading to the front door matches the barely standing roof shingles. A small garden out back is filled with flowers of purple and blue, and strawberries, lots of strawberries. Zoë is legitimately impressed. "Very nice doctor, that's another thing to cross off your list of achievements."

Simon and Zoë aimlessly walk closer towards the house.

"So how are you feeling Zoë?"  
"Oh, just fine. I just have the bump, no pains, no morning sickness–"  
"I wasn't talking about the baby."  
"I don't understand. What–"

"Zoë! Look at you. You're huge!" Kailey engulfs Zoë in a tight hug. "I'm just goofing with ya. You're the same beautiful warrior I remember before I left. Now be straight with me. How is she? I was anxious all the time worrying about her."  
"She really was," Simon sighs.  
"Serenity is fine. Like I said before, a few stops for fuel and inspections. No harm done."+  
"Well come on in. You'll love what I've made. It's _real_ strawberries _and_ chocolate!" Kailey sweeps her arm around Zoë ushering her inside.

* * *

"Have you heard from Jayne? I understand he was gaining recruits for Provenance?" Kailey asks. Her mouth is full of food and her eyes wide

"Actually, he's here. He's been here for a week or so. You honestly haven't heard from him?" Mal is too preoccupied shoving his face with food to even bother to care about the mystery.

"It is _just_ like Jayne, to be _so_ friendly." Simon excuses himself from the table taking his plate and Zoë's empty one with him.

"Excuse us," Kailey wipes her mouth, before following Simon to the kitchen.  
"You knew he was here didn't you?"  
"I saw him at Heaven's End a few days back. I didn't feel the need to mention it. He obviously didn't want us knowing, or he would have said something."  
"Ok. If you're sure that's why you didn't tell me–" She sounds reluctant, unwilling to change the subject, she presses Simon with her gaze.  
"Yes, obviously. Now go back and talk some more."

Once alone, Simon drops the plates into the sink. His hands trembling. He hated lying to Kailey. It pained him more than anything. Nonetheless, he couldn't tell her the truth. He couldn't bring himself to worry her, to cause her pain.

* * *

The moons had fully settled high in the sky, and the sleepy guests have all lain down for the night. Simon slips out of his bed, not bothering to be quiet. It was hard to wake Kailey; he's learned this by now. The real struggle was avoiding River. But she was at a friends and that was that.

It was a small journey to town, and Simon had grown to like his nightly jogs. The moons create a soft sheen against the cool sand. Station 7 was calm, pleasant.

"Where are you off to?" Simon cringes and turns to face a solemn Zoë.  
"Oh, hi Zoë. Just getting some air."  
"At this hour?"  
"I–"  
"Don't bother. I now why you're out, Simon. You're heading to see Jayne."

"It has become a nightly ritual. I sleep. I wake up. I drink. River has promised not to tell Kailey about this, and I tend to keep it that way." Simons attempt at sounding threatening made Zoë smirk.  
"I understand"  
"You do?"

They were almost to town now. The walk wasn't far at all.

"Of course I do. I understand the nightmares."  
"Duh. Of course you do. I'm sorry–"  
"Stop! All of you need to stop being so damn sorry all the time!"  
"I'm sorry. Dammit! I mean–"

Zoë sighs. She try's to acknowledge how her friends are trying. They try to understand. They try to help. They are always trying. She lets the silence eat away at Simon. She doesn't care how uncomfortable it makes him. She is tired of making sure everyone is comfortable. She is tired of giving the right answers just to make her friends happy. She is done protecting them.

"About what you asked earlier." Simon looks up to meet Zoë. "About how I was? Well, I'm not fine. I'm not ok. I'm nothing. I feel…nothing." And for the second time a warrior falls.


End file.
